


En Sotto Voce

by oh_demoted_short_one



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hand Feeding, I'm not the one to help you this time, M/M, Mind Control, Sorry Will, Vampire Fic Yo, Vampire Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_demoted_short_one/pseuds/oh_demoted_short_one
Summary: Facing Hannibal in the morning is an ordeal. It's one thing to pass out at your friend's house after too much wine and another thing altogether to have an erotic dream of that same friend bringing you to aching arousal and then to a release powerful enough to sizzle along the nerves well after waking. He rationalizes it away with the reasoning that Hannibal was just the first thing to come to mind. The last person he saw, arguably the only human he's anything near intimate with, not unattractive, and it's been a while, it all makes total sense.------------------------------------------------------------------Obligatory Vampire Hannigram fic. Also features hand feeding, incidently,  and mild mind control/manipulation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has been languishing in three different drafts in a notebook for like a year. Here, have it polished up.

The first time it happens, Will is mostly able to dismiss it as a dream brought on by too much alcohol, too little sleep, and far too little time or inclination to take care of certain urges. He wakes up with his boxers plastered to his hips and thighs. Even considering the recent dry spell his body is rarely so... enthusiastic without some sort of prompting.

Facing Hannibal in the morning is an ordeal. It's one thing to pass out at your friend's house after too much wine and another thing altogether to have an erotic dream of that same friend bringing you to aching arousal and then to a release powerful enough to sizzle along the nerves well after waking. He rationalizes it away with the reasoning that Hannibal was just the first thing to come to mind. The last person he saw, arguably the only human he's anything near intimate with, not unattractive, and it's been a while, it all makes total sense.

He still flushes to the neck when he sits down at the little table in the kitchen though. His boxers are in a ball in his pocket, Hannibal is laying an immaculate omelette in front of him, and it's all Will can do not to pop wood when he gets close enough for him to smell his cologne.

He's too busy avoiding eye contact laying his napkin in his lap to see Hannibal inhaling deeply of him in return.

 

The next day a rash of serial arsons in Oregon drags the team away for the better part of a week. Will isn't needed as such and he doesn't need any more fuel for his night terrors but Jack certainly doesn't turn down the extra pair of eyes, particularly if they come attached to Will. 

Will thinks that the distance and time will help him put his awkward sleepover at Hannibal's from his mind and for the most part it works. It doesn't stop him from missing the man's wit, but when he returns to Wolf Trap tired and still muddy from a chase through the woods the last thing on his mind is getting laid, honestly.

Several hours later he wakes shuddering through an incredible orgasm after dreaming about sucking Hannibal's cock for what seemed like hours. He can almost feel the man's fingers wrapped up in his hair, holding gently and then later guiding with more force as he reached his end.

Will has showered away the evidence of the night before and fed the dogs by the time Hannibal arrives unannounced and uninvited 45 minutes later. They don't swamp him as soon as he walks in the door, as they are wont to do. Strange, considering they haven't seen him in a while and that he usually brings them sweetmeats. They must be getting used to him being around so often, Will thinks.

The crepes and coffee that he present to Will go a long way to smoothing over the fact that there was zero forewarning to his visit. Just when Will thinks that the day might turn out nicely, Jack interrupts Will knows as soon as he sees the "piece" that it is not the beginning of a sounder. This is a standalone work. This is beauty for beauty's sake. A buffet for the senses. The Ripper is joyous today. Something about it prickles Will and sends him running to lavatory sick.

In the aftermath therapy doesn't seem too appealing. Hannibal is apparently content to let him pace around the room like a caged beast. For some reason when he trails after Will it doesn't leave him with the feeling of being stalked as it might another person. He's just a subtle presence, which leaves Will to snort. Upon first meeting the man, Wi wouldn't have used any variation on the word "subtle" to describe him.

The session ends inevitably with an invitation to dinner. It's becoming something of a habit to end a week or a trip talking to Hannibal over a meal. Predictably where this line of thought leads Will has no wish to explore. Instead he walks out the door. Hannibal doesn't even consider it rude anymore.

 

It happens that Will doesn't notice Hannibal speaking to him until the man has already rounded the table and laid hands on him. It isn't even the contact that rouses him from thought, or the movement. It's that damn cologne. It probably costs more than Will makes in a day.

"--with me? Will, you must say something if you can hear me."

"Yeah!" Hannibal's words come in first, and then his eyes swim into focus, dark under his furrowed brow. They're so rich in color, Will thinks, spewing out the first excuse he can think of, "Yes, that is. I'm here. I just haven't been able to relax since this case began." 

"I'm thinking about a lot of things." Of you, he doesn't say.

"Me?" God. Dammit. Will needs something with a higher alcohol content than the elderberry liquor in the syrup on his torte.

"Among other things," he diplomatically settles for. Hannibal has moved his plate down the table to sit directly to Will's right, he notes. He's smiling.

"Only good things, I should hope." If only you knew, Will thinks. 

They eat for a few minutes in silence. Well, Hannibal eats, small precise bites. Will mostly leaves his torte untouched in favour of swirling his fork in the pool of syrup around it. He doesn't have much appetite for food at the moment. 

Hannibal's hand covering his halts his fumbling and when he plucks the fork from Will's numb fingers it's almost a relief. Before he knows it the fork has been carefully loaded with small morsels and brought to his mouth three times. Hannibal is still smiling, but it's softened around the edges a bit. Less affectation, more affection. 

"What are we doing?" Will asks quietly, while Hannibal prepares a fourth bite.

"I thought that we were having a lovely evening together. Is that not so, Will?" his smile says that he's being purposefully obtuse. Will doesn't care for the teasing.

Once again it becomes apparent that a nervous Will is a defensive one. Before he can get a single sardonic word in edgewise he's being kissed. A tongue is sneaking around his lips. Hannibal tastes like fruit and elderberry liquor, sweet and yet dry. Underlying that is a coppery tang that Will is too distracted to place. 

For a few long minutes they trade control. It's like sharing air between them -- ever more breathless. 

It takes a while for Will's brain to catch up to the rest of him. He takes stock while he catches his breath and rounds up his scattered thoughts. His dinner coat is around his elbows somehow, and he's moved to the edge of the chair, leaning over the corner of the table. Hannibal is half out of his seat altogether, and his hair has come out of place from where Will knotted his fingers in it for leverage.

"Will?" Hannibal asks, and he realizes that he's been making uninterrupted eye contact for almost a minute. Something might be wrong. He feels drugged but aware. But then, maybe not. He isn't on edge. He simply feels languid. At ease.

When he doesn't answer Hannibal rounds the table and leans over to peer into Will's face. Whatever he sees there makes him smile softly.

"I had hoped to build up an immunity in you," Hannibal says as he lifts an eyelid, presumable to check pupil dilation. Will makes no move to stop him. He's feeling exceptionally accommodating.

"It seems not to be for now. We'll see if it forms, in time. Now I would like to kiss you again Will." He chuckles when Will lifts his chin in reply, offering his lips.

Will doesn't know what Hannibal means about building any resistances but he doesn't think that he could ever resist any requests made by this man.

Will is aware this time of the progression of things. His belt is undone and his shirt buttons separated lovingly from their holes. Hannibal tweaks Will's nipple just right on the first try and he half growls in pleasure when Will's hands tighten spasmodically on the backs of his shoulders in response.

It's like all of the dreams he's been having coming true -- Hannibal knows just where to touch to make him gasp into their kiss, or break it entirely to moan. At some point he moves to crouch before Will. It makes him feel more caged in than when the man was looming over him. Perhaps it's because he doesn't have the kiss to take his focus anymore. He can only watch Hannibal make his way down the skin he's so patiently exposed.

The hand not gripping the back of Hannibal's jacket fits nicely against the back of his neck. The hair there is shorter than in the front but long enough for Will to pull on to get Hannibal's attention.

He doesn't mind arching his neck so Will can steal another kiss but pulls away with a huffed breath after only a moment leaving Will to whine softly. He isn't disappointed for long; Hannibal palms him through his slacks to make him gasp and then opens them swiftly to hear him groan his relief.

Will's cock is peaking up out of his boxers, which Hannibal comments on - "So eager darling" - briefly before gently blowing on it. Will doesn't disappoint, hissing at the sensation. Hannibal can't help sitting back on his heels to observe Will. Flushed, lips kiss swollen and starting to look bitten red, the leanness of his exposed body perfectly framed by the dinner jacket still pinning his arms in place. The lovely red head of his prick is already beading up a bit, and trapped right across the frenulum. It looks vaguely painful. Hannibal wants to paint him like this so that he might have it always. Soon enough he will, he'll see to it personally.

Will is just about ready to take things into his own hands when Hannibal nudges him up just enough to get his trousers down past his hips. Will isn't feeling particularly languid anymore. Now he's just keyed up and wanting.

Will revealed is a ruddy pink, engorged with enough blood to make thinking difficult and aroused enough that he hops and gives a hopeful twitch when Hannibal brushes against  
him with the backs of his fingers. The bastard is loving every second of this, Will thinks.

He's musky, Will is, fragrant from too many nights soaking in his own sweat and early mornings rushing to classes and crime scenes without a chance to shower. He took one before coming here, but only had time for a perfunctory washing.

Hannibal is quite enamoured of his dear empath's scent. He leans close to take it in, pulling in a deep breath while he lays licks down Will's shaft.

"Did you just smell me?" Will asks incredulously on a harsh exhalation.

"Mmm. Difficult to avoid," Hannibal replies with a grin, and presses against Will's balls, feels them draw up a little. This parody of their first interactions isn't lost on either of them. Even while being taken apart slowly, Will never ceases to fascinate.

"I did say you would find me interesting soon enough, did I not?"

 

Will burns. His hands clench, at Hannibal's shoulders, his hair, the armrests, his own hair and thighs. He knocks his head back a few times when Hannibal swallows him deep. So deep. He can feel his cock being squeezed by the man's throat. Fuck.

Hannibal comes at him like he's a fine wine. He let's him breath -- whine -- he draws in Will's scent, great inhales and small huffs, and then he takes him in, moves him around in his mouth, before pulling back to do it all again. It's driving Will mad with want. He feels like he's there to be enjoyed, like anything Hannibal brings to his table. He's here to be taken, bestial beneath a veneer of the highest society, the most dangerous civility. He's here to be devoured.

Hannibal could do this for hours, torturing himself with a feast only to take it away before he can really sink his teeth in, but Will doesn't need that for their first conscious encounter. Well, semi-lucid at least. Hannibal needs him to come back on his own. Whether or not Will believes his memories when this is over, it would not take much to scare him off of future experiences.

By the time Hannibal has brought him to the edge four or five times Will is a mess. He's sweated through his shirt and there's a serious risk of staining the chair with salt. More dire than that, he can feel the precum flowing from him like water, or blood, and it's agonizing watching Hannibal lick it up. All he can think about is coming but somewhere along the way his mouth stopped listening to his brain and started following its own agenda, namely saying anything it can to get Hannibal to never stop. He can't argue its effectiveness when faced with the result. Hannibal looks ready to settle in for the long haul. He can't decide whether he wants nothing more than that or nothing to do with it. As it stands he's gonna come so hard he's going to be _sore._

"Would you like to come dear Will?" the hum around Hannibal's words leaves Will gasping his renewed pleas.

"Please, Doct--" the suction around just the head of his prick and the hand cupping his balls both go almost painfully tight, "Hannibal!" he corrects hastily, moaning on a sigh as the man goes back to a gentler refrain.

"I want to take you within myself Will." 

_"I'm very particular about what I put into my body."_

_**God.**_

The words sound so close, right in Will's ear, a caress _en sotto voce,_ but of course the good doctor has his mouth full. Has he been drugged?

"Give it to me dear heart," his arms lock around Will's waist, pulling him up, encouraging the small movements that Will has been trying to hold back.

**"Give yourself to me now Will!"**

He can no more help it anymore than he can fathom that rich sound rumbling through him when the one speaking is also groaning around his spasming cock. His shoulders hunch over, desperately fisting Hannibal's dinner jacket as he bucks up helplessly, giving in. It feels so good to give himself to this man. He could do it again, so easily, if only he could breath. This has been building, slowly over weeks. Crazy sounding or not, he's almost certain that it was somehow orchestrated by this... man, on his knees swallowing down his cum like fine liquor without a single compunction about it other than perhaps "Another, please?".

When he pulls away Will lets him go, if only because any sort of limbic control is beyond him at the moment. Hannibal still looks devastatingly handsome, more so now for his disheveled appearance. Hair askew, lips even more plush than usual, and eyes lidded low, he looks like nothing more than a satisfied predator. He looks like _he_ just got the blowjob of his life.

They sit for a bit, and then Hannibal stands and takes away the dishes. When he comes back he hasn't made any attempts to right his attire, but Will has taken one of Hannibal's cloth napkins to wipe away some of the sweat and saliva. There is a distinct lack of cum, anywhere. It sends a sliver of renewed interest to the base of Will's spine. By the way that Hannibal looks at him, it's fairly obvious.

When Hannibal looks him in the eye all Will can do is stare back. For once, he's empty of everything and everyone but himself. And Hannibal. But he realizes that it's been that way for such a while now that he doesn't really mind. It's a peace he's never known before this moment, ever. He even smiles when Hannibal kisses him, redolent with the taste of brine and fruit and the new penny taste that must be all Hannibal.

Will doesn't even think too hard when Hannibal whispers is many endearments to him, though his lips don't move from Will's. He brings Will upstairs, and they lay in the dark for a time, clothes stripped away and bodies pressed together under the soft covers.

 

Will thinks before he sleeps that he might like to come back again, to be dinner with Hannibal.

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking about doing more with particular iteration, maybe a morning after or continuance. Idunno.
> 
> Also, yes, I do occasionally take prompts.


End file.
